Trills in Treble Clef
by spiderme
Summary: Dumbledore has finally noticed the lack of inter-house unity, and has his mind set on how to fix it: Enter The Hogwarts Inter-House Marching Band. Professor Vector is going to have his hands full.
1. I: The Idea

**This is a story for all of the band geeks who read Harry Potter, as I know there are many of you.**

**It will consist of short, humorous chapters told from the view of many different minor characters, always in third person. I have the twenty chapters sketched out, and you should expect weekly updates.**

**Reviews are very helpful.**

I:

Professor Aidan Vector was, in most situations, a calm person. Barely ever was he openly distressed, and when he was, he could pull himself together fairly quickly.

"My dear professor, I have a favor to ask of you," said the white-bearded professor in an airy voice, clasping his hands over his desk. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you. May I inquire as to what you are asking of me, Albus?" questioned Professor Vector from the other side of the desk, looking nervously from side to side. A favor for Albus could be anything from licking an envelope to harvesting sphynx spleens, both of which had happend to Vector in the thirteen years he had worked at Hogwarts as an arithmancy professor. He was working very hard to forget the latter of the two.

"Aidan, I was walking down the hallway yesterday when I noticed something. Something recent and subtle, but something nonetheless..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off as he picked a little piece of something, most likely from the prior day's dinner, from his beard and nibbled at it.

"Oh?" questioned Vector. Probably nothing important, he tried to reassure himself. Possibly that pair of mismatched curtains on the fifth floor, or that the statue of Barnaby The Something Or Another was missing a toenail.

"Indeed," said Albus with a nod.

A long pause began, interrupted only once by the coughing of a portrait.

"Were you, erm, going to tell me, Headmaster?" said Vector with a little cough.

"Oh! Oh, yes. Well. You see, Aidan, it was a very average Tuesday in late May-"

"You mean today?" Vector spoke slowly, as if to a young child or eccentric old man.

"It would have to be today, then, wouldn't it? Alas, how quickly the last fifteen minutes have passed! Anywho, as I was walking on my normal rounds around the school, I payed very accute attention to my students, something I believe that every teacher should do, when they remember to. I watched many exchanges, just little things, between Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins and Gryffindors, and I believe I've picked up on something that no one has yet seen. Something..." Dumbledore searched for the right word, "alarming."

Oh, dear. This could not be good. At all. The younger professor gently reminded himself that, truly, he could not predict what the professor was going to say, and that, therefore, he should not be alarmed. Yet.

"There is, my dear professor-dear me, how I hate to alarm you. There is," Albus leaned forward and motioned for Vector's ear. Aidan took a sharp breath in and leaned to meet him. He moved his eyes from side to side in apprehension, and then upward in prayer.

"-a sense of inter-house tension!" whispered Dumbledore dramatically, his eyes just about popping out of his head. A glance at his hands showed him twiddling his thumbs with more speed than Vector would have previously believed possible.

The poor, old dog. There wasn't a real danger, thank the lord, just the same-old, same-old that Albus had failed to notice because he was too busy with bumblebees and beards. Well, thought Vector, no harm in playing along. Might as well calm him down a little.

Vector immediately jumped and sputtered (what he imagined would be a proper "alarmed" reaction), although the over all reaction was a bit delayed.

"I-I- Oh, God, Albus! You can't be serious?" shouted Vector, an unusual tone for him. He shook his head and opened his mouth a little wider for even greater effect _(I should be an actor_, he thought, for a fleeting moment).

"I'm afraid that I am, Aidan," said Albus solemnly.

"It's horrid, headmaster. What ever can I do to help you?" Vector said, wiping "sweat" from his forehead.

"Ah, yes. What ever can you do to help me? Obviously, we must confront the issue before it becomes anything of severe importance. This is where you come in, my friend," said Albus clasping his shoulder.

"Me, professor?"

"Oh, yes. You have great qualities. Superb, really, your habit of sticking your chewing gum under staircases," said Dumbledore in all seriousness. Vector tried to give a polite, inquisitive hum, but it came out a little more stressed and high-pitched than he wanted it to.

"You are certainly more qualified for this job than any of my other staff," Albus gave an ominous smile. Unfortunately, Vector's reply was much the same as his previous one; if anything, maybe another half note higher.

"What job might that be, professor?" asked Vector after a short moment._ Really, Aidan_, he thought to himself, _it's not like you to get worked up_.

"You will be in charge of an inter-house activity!" Dumbledore yelled suddenly, making Vector flinch. He crossed his fingers under the desk. Something easy, please.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Aidan with a strained smile.

"One particular sport- well, not many consider it a sport, but there are still a large number that do. Something mellow and fun, that all house members can do as a team..." trailed Dumbledore. "Simply put, Aidan, I would like you... to be the first... instructor of...-"

-chess club chess club chess club chess club chess club chess club-

"-The Hogwarts Inter-House Marching Band!" shouted Dumbledore, his voice and demeanor just _dripping_ with pure glee.

"Come again?" said Vector weakly, now completely giving up his acting.

"Professor, I would like you to be a band director for the first ever Hogwarts marching band," said Dumbledore, slightly calmer now.

"Ah, yes, that's- that's what I thought you said," Vector replied quietly, slumping in his chair. Oh, God, this is not what he wanted. This is not what he wanted at all. Sure, he'd marched baritone for his American wizardry school as a teenager. Loved it, of course, great experience. But that did not mean that he wanted to be on the field now, as a thirty-something-year-old man, teaching sweaty teenagers to count to sixteen and always use condoms.

"I trust you are excited? You will, of course, be payed all through summer and extra in the fall as compensation," said Dumbledore. With an eye twinkle. God damn those eye twinkles, it's difficult to just refuse something twinkly.

Gold was gold. Vector sighed, and then said, "tell me where to begin, Albus."

"With try-outs, I would think. Well, I have things to attend to. Good day, Professor," said Dumbledore with a nod and a wave, before returning to looking for treats in his long, white beard.

Professor Aidan Vector was, in most situations, a calm person. Barely ever was he openly distressed, and when he was, he could pull himself together fairly quickly.

Aidan Vector was openly distressed, and immediately decided that the only way to pull himself together was with a barrel of alcohol.


	2. II: The Process

**I lied about weekly updates, this is more of a "I'm-goning-to-update-whenever-the-hell-I-feel-like-it" sort of thing. My profile will have an FAQ and a consistently updated list of students and their instruments, houses, year, and chapters they have a feature in. I apologize for typos. Wordpad kind of sucks, and I need a beta (HINT). Also, I like feedback. Truly. So share yours. -Cinders**

II:

Hannah Abbot, like many of her school mates around her, read the newly-errected sign with her mouth wide open.

"Hogwarts Inter-House Marching Band auditions to be held next Tuesday, the thirty-first of May, nineteen-ninty-four, at two o'clock in Professor Vector's Arithmancy Classroom. No musical experience nessecary, please sign up if interested."

The only reasonable explanation Hannah could think of was that it was all something to do with Dumbledore's age. How a marching would attract enough people to make it a decent experience, Hannah had no idea. Firstly, It was based on a muggle activity. Slytherins would not participate. Secondly, it wasn't scholarly. Ravenclaws would not participate. Thirdly, it was not "cool". The Gryffindors would not participate.

This left a marching band consisting of ninty percent Hufflepuffs, which would most likely mean four and a half Hufflepuffs and half of a Ravenclaw.

Deciding to embrace her inner bravery, Hannah stepped forward to write her name. She might as well take advantage of the five years of flute lessons she'd been taking, hadn't she?

Upon closer inspection, she noticed finer print under the main text:

"_All those who participate through the season will recieve an Arithmancy credit, a daily breakfast buffet through October, a Zonko's coupon book, and, most likely, weight loss and a tan_."

And, in finer print:

"_PLEASE_."

Hannah proudly put her name on the first line, banking on that tan.

-x-

Professor Vector arranged the numerous instruments on desks, along with a tuba on the ground and a flag against the wall. If he wasn't requiring experience, he decided that the best way to decide would be to just see what they could do. The benches he had lined up outside of his classroom would, by now, hopefully be filled with the thirty or so students who had shown interest.

"Are you sure that's the best way to do it?" asked Bill Weasley, who was to instruct the brass, with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, that's kind of putting them on the spot."

"Nonsense," mumbled Aidan, trying to fix a valve guide.

"All right, then," said Bill slowly, "have you found a woodwind instructor yet?"

"Oh. No."

"What about a flag instructor?"

"Well-"

"Started writing drill?"

"Ah-"

"Chosen a camp?"

"-"

"_A show theme?_"

"..."

"I see," said Bill curtly. Vector glanced at the young man, who was standing with his arms crossed. Bill really was a fine asset, having taking trumpet lessons when he was home for the summers as a student, and it was a stroke of luck that he had a temporary desk job in England for the summer, rather than his typical job in Egypt. However, the younger man had an undeniable _attitude._

"I'll get around to it," Aidan said, in a mumble once again, running his hand through his brown hair (although, it was mostly gray now). "Look, let's just start the try outs and work from there. Once we have instrumentation, the rest should be simple."

Bill frowned at him, but said nothing. Vector swung the door open, and spoke with a forced smile:

"Who's first?"

-x-

"So-erm. Tell me about yourself," said Vector awkwardly. Colin looked him up and down. The poor man was a wreck. Couldn't be easy, Colin supposed, to be placed in charge of one of Dumbledore's crazy schemes.

"My name's Colin, Colin Creevey. Gryffindor. I'm awfully excited for this. It's very nice of you to offer such a thing, as it must be a lot of work. And I've a brother, Dennis, who'll be a first year next year- could he do this as well?" asked, Colin, trying to be as polite as he could, and, admittedly, trying to scout where sucking up would get him.

"Absolutely! Bravo, yes! Perfect!" replied Professor Vector with a bit too much gusto, "so, m'boy, what do you play?" It seemed that Colin had found the trick-flatter, and be appreciated. Colin, of all people, could certainly flatter.

"Well, sir, I've always wanted to try the piccolo. I mean, if _you _think it would be a good match for me. You know best, I'm sure," said Colin with big eyes. People may call him annoying, yes, but he did usually get what he wanted, and it was never just luck.

"I'm certain it would be a perfect fit! Of course it would! And your brother, what does he play?" asked Vector, handing the boy a piccolo off of a desk and clasping his shoulder.

"You see, sir," said Colin, finding his fingerings on the instrument, "Dennis has always thought the tuba to have the most fascinating sound..."

-x-

"Let me get this straight, Miss Lovegood," said Aidan, lowering his glasses, "you are asking me if you can march _cello_?"

"Oh, yes," said the girl, rocking back and forth on her toes, not quite making eye contact with him. She was one of the students that he and the other teachers referred to as owls, sitting in the rafters doing whatever they please. This one, though, might better qualify as a Derfrujuju, which are, according to this girl, flightless birds from South America that are the cause of most cases of domestic violence amoung the native Brazilian people.

Professor Vector just smiled and nodded when that particular topic started.

As for this one, he was stumped.

"Well, I guess, I mean-Huh. If you can figure out a way to maneuver it, then I've no problem with that. Otherwise, you're marching trombone. Deal?" asked Vector. Dear lord, he was letting a girl march cello. He must be more desperate than he thought.

"I will. But you really mustn't say words that have both a D and an L in them, it attracts Humdingers," with this, Luna took her leave, skipping all the way.

He and Bill exchanged an open-mouthed glance before composing themselves and continuing on.

-x-

"I'm quite certain I can play whatever you want me to with ease. I mean, I pick up on everything quickly, and father-Geoffry McLaggen, I'm sure you've heard of him, head of the of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad-has always told me that I should play an instrument, seeing as I have the air for one quite easily-"

Bill could certainly agree with him on that.

"-and have always had a good ear for things. The only thing that worries me is making time for another commitment, as I am, you know, fairly popular with my peers and highly involved in everything that the school does. I do think I might go out for keeper this year, I hope that doesn't interfere-"

Bill very much hoped it would.

"-but if it does, well, I made this commitment first, and a good man always sticks to his commitments. Now, about my instrument, I'm quite willing to be in whatever section you'll have me in, I do think my flexibility and ability to adapt to a challenge are some of my best traits-"

Bill gave an internal sigh of relief, knowing that he may be able to stick the boy in the percussion or woodwinds.

"-but I'm quite inclined towards trumpet. Such a grand instrument, don't you think? One of the simplest to learn, yet most difficult to truly master. I'm sure I'll be quite good at it come August, though, don't you think? If you'll have me on it, that is."

Bill resisted the urge to pound his forehead against the wall.

-x-

"Adrian Pucey!" Vector heard Bill call into the hallway. Pucey had always been a student that Vector couldn't figure out. Very, well, Slytherin-y. He hung out with his Slytherin friends, played quidditch for Slytherin, spoke with that Slytherin-like arrogance, and slunk through the school in the characteristic Slytherin. However, never once had Aidan Vector seen Pucey break a rule or say anything even slightly out of line. For a very Slytherin student in this day and age, the child of a convicted death eater, _this was something._

"Professor," said Adrian cooly, coming to a halt on front of the desk behind which Vector was sitting.

"Hello, Mr. Pucey. What sparked your intrest in this program, if I may ask?" Vector asked, dying to maybe figure out this student once and for all. Pucey glanced warily around the room, pausing at the closed door, and once again at Bill before meeting Vector's eyes, lowering himself so that they were even. The professor couldn't help but slide down in his seat slightly.

"What I am going to tell you, Professor, does not leave this room," Adrian whispered. Vector nodded, and tryed not to show his nervousness.

"As I'm sure you know, I have been raised by my mother only, due to my father's _absence. _My dear mother, never being entirely supportive of my father's goals, thought that perhaps I deserved a different perspective of the world. I-Well, I went to muggle school before I came to Hogwarts." The student's voice was noticiblly quieter as he added the last sentence. Professor Vector remained composed, and simply nodded (but how amazing was that! A purist mother, sending her pure blooded son to muggle school! Unbelievable!), whereas Bill, who was out of Adrian's line of sight, was gaping in astonishment.

"A boarding school, in Wales. A school specializing in _music,_" stated Pucey, "in which I learned how to play a multitude of instruments, and also conduct and a bit of singing."

Perfect! Perfect! This was the best news Vector had heard so far! Never mind the idiots who didn't know a flute from a fluglehorn, he had a _real musician! _"That's wonderful to hear! At such a young age, as well!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, well," said Pucey, showing a bit of a smile, "they did tell me I was quite talented."

A prodigy. Vector had a real, true, honest-to-Merlin prodigy. Not to mention he now understood the student that had always puzzled him-of course the boy was respectful towards everyone, he has practically been raised muggle!

"Well, then, Mr. Pucey, I know just what I'm going to do with you..."

-x-

If this girl made eyes at him one more time, he would be certain to call her a whore over the megaphone at band camp. Bill swore this to himself, trying not to meet her eyes.

"Teehee, I'm not very good at this, am I?" giggled Romilda, looking at her reflection in a trumpet. Miss Vane was indeed not very good at this. Or at anything she tried, really. Too busy trying to fix her hair.

"Erm, not to worry, I'm sure something will work out for you," said Vector, adjusting her hands on a clarinet. "Try this," he remarked, half-heartedly.

"Do you think I'll be any good at this, _Mister Weasely?_" she said saucily, blinking at him again. Romilda Vane. Vane. _Vane. _Of all the ironic names.

Oh, yes. It didn't matter whether he was the role model or not. Band camp. Megaphone. It would happen.

-x-

"Flint. Why are you doing this?"

"It's no secret that I'm faling everything. Easy credit, of course."

"Yes, but you could easiy earn that on, say, trumpet or bass drum."

"Ah, but how many girls do you think are in _those _sections?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Girls. Chicks. Ladies. Babes. Boobs-"

"ENOUGH."

"Just making sure you get the picture, Sir."

"Perfectly clear. But _flag team_?"

"Flag team. No guy in his right mind would dance on a Quidditch field."

"...Do consider what you just said, Mr. Flint."

"...What?"

"Never mind."

-x-

"I-but-Myrtle, can you even get an instrument?" sputtered Vector.

"Are you calling me stupid? I wouldn't be here if I couldn't get an instrument, you dunderhead. For your information, the ghost that haunts the fourth floor broom closet died with a clarinet in hand," she replied, putting both hands on her hips. For the love of all that was magical, why did she show up? Of any ghost, of any student, of any being, why her?

"But, I mean, there are certain other logistics. How do we get you in a uniform, or even see you on a sunny day?" Please, please, please let her see logic. _Please._

"Are you calling me useless?" Myrtle, well, moaned. Her eyes were tearing up-

"No, no, not at all! I'm just... making sure you see what worries me," Vector finished lamely.

"No. I understand. You think I'm just poor, miserable, moaning Myrtle and can't do anything of value. Go on, laugh at me. Laugh at me for showing up," she started to sob. If there was one thing that made Aidan feel awkward as hell, it was an emotional girl.

"...I guess we can make it work," mumbled Aidan. Myrtle perked up a little.

"What was that?"

"You can join."

Myrtle seemed to immediately get overself, squealing with glee before drifing off to Lord-knows-where. Probably the U-bend.

Aidan shuddered. One of his clarinet players was a dead Ravenclaw who lived in a rundown plumbing system.

How did he get roped into this, again?

-x-

Justin Finch-Fletchly felt immediately uncomfortable upon entering the room full of instruments. It wasn't because of the instruments, he was familiar with most of those, having been raised in a rather prestigious muggle home. It was more or less the fact that both Professor Vector and Mr. Weasley looked as if they might want to strangle him, or possibly themselves.

"Erm.. Are you all right?" Justin dared to ask. He was one of the last to be interviewed, a house-elf and a heavily-muscled Slytherin fourth year waited outside. Bill and Vector looked at him blankly, before Bill replied:

"Oh. You're normal. Thank goodness."

This, Justin though, was a rather odd reply. Upon further thought, though, he realized that the answer was maybe entirely fitting. A ghost had been interviewed right before he had, and very "unique" variety of people before that.

"Well, yes. I think so. I was wondering if I might be able to play french horn? My mum played it when she was in school."

Vector breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, Justin, that would be entirely possible."

"Thank you, sir." And, with that, Justin took his leave. Being average could be boring, yes, but Justin preferred to think of himself as a break from the many, many idiots that he went to school with.

-x-

HOGWARTS INTER-HOUSE MARCHING BAND:

Parts have been assigned as followed:

(Bold indicates section leader)

_Drum Major:_

A. Pucey

_Flute:_

**H. Abbot (Flute, Piccolo)**

M. Bobbin

R. Vane

S. Ackerly

_Piccolo:_

C. Creevey

E. Cattermole

_Clarinet:_

D. Greengrass

Myrtle

**D. Ingleby**

K. Entwhistle

_Saxophone:_

F. Weasley

G. Weasley

_Trumpet:_

**C. McLaggen**

M. MacDougal

M. Belby

A. Kirke

_Horn:_

**S. Fawcett (Horn, Saxophone)**

J. Flinch-Fletchly

_Trombone:_

D. Thomas

**T. Davis (Trombone, Baritone, Tuba)**

_Baritone:_

C. Diggory

_Tuba:_

D. Creevey

_Cello:_

**L. Lovegood**

_Snare Drum:_

B. Zabini

D. Robins

Bass Drum:

R. Urquhart

R. Scandmander

_Tenor Drum:_

**A. Goldstein (Snare, Bass, Tenor)**

_Cymbals:_

V. Crabbe

_Pit Percussion:_

**P. Stimpson (Pit, Cymbals)**

Dobby

_Flag Team:_

**C. Chang**

A. Spinnet

E. Midgen

M. Flint

-x-

Dobby couldn't help but do a little happy dance when he saw his name on the list. What a kind, kind man Professor Vector was, letting Dobby preform in his fancy new band! Dobby would, of course be celebrating!

Dobby wondered if he could find socks with musical notes in Hogsmeade.


End file.
